


When We Two Parted (Un peu fort bourré)

by Yanex



Series: When We Two Parted (to sever for years) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton cheats, Alexander Hamilton needs a hug, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Boy is confused too, But not from Alex, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, How is this not a tag, Infidelity, M/M, Or maybe from him?, Politics, Preferably from Thomas, Smut, So much shit to unpack that doesn’t get unpacked, Thomas Jefferson Needs A Hug, but old, extraordinary amounts of alcohol, not exactly, or well, ya know the gig, yeah it's an acid trip I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanex/pseuds/Yanex
Summary: Thomas. That’s why, of course. Whatever else could bring him in such a rathole, alone, on a Friday night that even just last week would have seen him in a bar far classier than this- Thomas’ hands on his hips, between his fingers, in his hair, caressing his face, and by God he needed to be touched again, now, he wanted it now- or curled up on his (their?) couch next to a man that was hot and mean and sweet, fighting over which film they should watch that night, getting lost in debate twenty minutes in, because they couldn’t even finish a fucking film but-He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.“Yeah, yeah. Bring me some more shots, can you?”Alexander Hamilton realising he completely fucked up his life? More likely than you think.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, past- Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: When We Two Parted (to sever for years) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091624
Comments: 30
Kudos: 42





	When We Two Parted (Un peu fort bourré)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chaosandgunpowder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosandgunpowder/gifts).



> Ok, here we are. First fic in this fandom, so be merciful please.  
> Chaosandgunpowder this is for you, your stories are literally what got me back to writing fanfiction, thank you for your awesomeness, I hope this doesn't disappoint too much.  
> Special thanks to Theo, you're the motherfucking best and this probably wouldn't be here without you, thank you for convincing me this isn't utter shit and my English is fine enough.  
> Title is from Lord Byron's poem "When we two parted" and Stromae's song "Formidable"  
> Enjoy!

Alex had never particularly liked drinking. There was something in the harsh burn of alcohol sliding down his throat, making his stomach churn and roll in protest, that hit too close to home. It brought to his mind the deep discomfort of starving in the grimy streets of Nevis, surprisingly similar to the ache of shots descending in his belly, most likely setting to work on destroying his kidneys.

But he wasn’t here to remember. What is there to remember after all? A life plagued by poverty and natural calamities? Should he really dwell on memories of water- filthy, full of waste and gasoline and corpses- reaching his mouth and filling his lungs, so thick he couldn’t breathe-

“Sir?”

No, really not a thing to remember. Especially not in Philadelphia, the place he landed in when he was already covered in a thick blanket of accomplishments and a film of notoriety. 

In the city that hadn’t even seen him young and hungry and starry-eyed at the future about to unfold before him- still clad in that aura of shame distinctive of who wasn’t highborn and could never hope to be as refined and noble minded as who had never gone to sleep on a painfully empty stomach- he could ignore those horrors, pretend they marked the first chapters of a life that wasn’t his, not Alexander Hamilton’s, but the life of a boy that died during a hurricane in the same place where he was born, the same place he had felt sickness and hate and the rottenness of the world in. 

He hadn’t been able to do it, before, in New York. How could he have when it was the city he landed in to become someone, to _escape_ and _survive_ the hurricane, the city that he called home now _(or is it?)_ and that he missed fiercely- and fuck Madison and _Jefferson_ for being mulish and wanting the capital moved from New York to a random place down South, now he was stuck in this boring city for ten years, and he didn’t know how he could hope to live enough to _see_ government moved to the Potomac, Philadelphia was so awful, so foul, so fetid, _filthy-_

“Sir, are you ok?”

Alex raised his head- _when had he rested it on his arms? -_ to look up at the voice, but he couldn’t focus and _why was this barstool swinging that much, for someone’s sake-_

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m-” a dizzy spell washed over him, and he gripped the counter harshly. He almost expected a big, warm hand to land on his back and steady him, maybe a hard chest plastering itself to him from behind, making him feel safe - _and when had he last felt safe, between the war, and first the Whigs and then the Tories breathing down his neck in college,_ _and the hurricane, and the hustling, and his mom, and his dad, where did he go, mom, where did dad go, is he coming back?_

“Are you sure?”

And arms, his strong, strong arms hugging him around the waist, pulling him impossibly closer, so close he could feel his springy locks brush against his face, maybe arranging his head to rest on Alex’s shoulder with his chin, surely looking utterly ridiculous- but he didn’t care, he couldn’t seem to care because he melted at Alex’s touch just as much as Alex found comfort in his hard, warm body.

But that’s the point right? He _isn’t_ here with Alex, not to steady him, not to warm him, not to make him laugh.

He concentrated hard, finally seeing the bartender’s clear eyes- too hazel, too unfocused, too small- in front of him with an unimpressed look on her face. Her lips, painted black and shining under the club’s psychedelic lights, were set in an unconvinced frown.

What was it she asked him again?

Alex couldn’t remember, there may be a gap in his memory, what had she even asked him-but oh, he recognized that kind of glance, from his college days.

John worked half the week’s nights at a bar, and Alex would keep him company, perched on a stool at the far end of the counter, his laptop open in front of him wailing its pain and age for everyone to hear in the fan’s screeching turbine-like sounds. John would flit with grace behind the counter, mixing drinks and being cute as all hell giving The Look at the patrons so far gone Alex was surprised they hadn’t ended up comatose from the sheer amount of alcohol they ingested; The Look was usually reserved for those who asked more shots but couldn’t even stand straight so of course John wouldn’t give them anything-oh.

Oh well, Alex could concede that _maybe_ he should try to stay a little more composed on this damned stool then. And it was doubly useful, he didn’t fancy having a close encounter with the floor, he didn’t even want to _know_ what kind of paranormal forms of life thrived down there, so yeah, why not. 

And maybe it would clear his head too, fresh oxygen flooding his lungs- but no, it wasn’t fresh at all, why did he come to this shitty bar, it stank of fucking sex and shitty booze and sweat and too many mixed perfumes-

Thomas. That’s why, of course. Whatever else could bring him in such a rathole, alone, on a Friday night that even just last week would have seen him in a bar far classier than this- _Thomas’ hands on his hips, between his fingers, in his hair, caressing his face, and by_ God _he needed to be touched again, now, he wanted it_ now- or curled up on his _(their?)_ couch next to a man that was hot and mean and sweet, fighting over which film they should watch that night, getting lost in debate twenty minutes in, because they couldn’t even finish a fucking _film_ but-

He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, yeah. Bring me some more shots, can you?”

She looked at him dubiously. He considered upping his game and subsequently losing the last shred of dignity he was clasping in his little hands, that seemed to get more _liquid_ and _unresponsive_ every passing minute. 

It’s not like he had that much of it left anyway, not after his partner found him in his ( _their, it was theirs-)_ bed-

“Please” great, his voice was even more slurred than he thought “I need to get real drunk.”

The bartender pursed her lips again, looking him in the eyes for a long moment in which Alex thought he’d need to go to another bar or buy some shit alcohol at a store- because Thomas surely had taken away all the nice, strong alcohol in his home, since it was _Thomas’_ in the first place, and how strange was it, now he had to think again about what was _his_ and what _wasn’t_ , when had he gotten used to the conception of shared property, of a shared _life-_ and get drunk on his couch. 

But he didn’t want to go home, he couldn’t, how could he bear feeling Thomas’ phantom presence in it but being _alone?_

She seemed to take pity on him- can you imagine? Secretary Treasury Alexander Hamilton being pitied as a sad drunk on his way of getting drunker because he can’t cope, look at this country’s politicians, no wonder the nation is already falling apart just a few years after the revolution- she sighed, shaking her lovely afro, just the right length and hue around her pretty face, but it was too long and partly bleached, too _light_ , why was everything so _wrong_ all of a sudden?

Alex let his gaze wander around the club to distract himself from his mind- because hell, he was here to forget, and he damn well would do that. He spotted a woman around his age, dyed red hair hanging limply around her shoulders, curved pathetically over a drink. He considered going to join her, but he didn’t trust himself right now and he didn’t want to wake up naked in someone else’s bed. He already knew he would only hate himself more when he did, and don’t get him started on how _unenjoyable_ sex had become for him.

Well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

At least, when it wasn’t Thomas pinned under him, dark skin contrasting stunningly with the white sheets, body pliant and tense and just his for the taking, shaking so _beautifully-_

“Sir?”

Not that they had been anything close to intimate in the past three weeks- _not that Alex hadn’t tried and felt all sorts of funny when in his mind flashed a lean white skinned shoulder as he trailed wet kisses on his lover’s muscled one, even before Thomas groaned and sank in the mattress and told him_ no _, since “I’m too tired to fuck, you fucking horny gremlin let me fucking_ sleep _” -_ so, who knows. Maybe he really became suddenly unsatisfied with sex at large-

He felt cool glass being pushed against his hands and abruptly came back to himself. The cute bartender was looking at him curiously, dark- too dark- fingers lingering near the glasses she put in front of him.

He immediately gulped down a shot, slamming the glass a little too hard on the counter before glancing back at the girl.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes followed his fingers as he brought another shot to his lips. He quirked an eyebrow, looking at her expectantly.

“Why are you so desperately trying to get drunk?”

He laughed, airily, before letting the cheap alcohol slide down his throat and burn- _he wasn’t drowning, it wasn’t water dirty with blood and corpses and gasoline, only shitty vodka, get a fucking grip-_

“I’m drunk already.”

She looked warily at his grimace, taking the two empty glasses.

“I see that. But you want to black out.”

“Why do you want to know? I’m just your everyday drunkard, ain’t I?”

“You don’t belong here.” she looked him up and down and Alex felt _so uncomfortable,_ he didn’t like where this was going, could she please stop- “Your clothes are rumpled, sure, but they also look pretty expensive. And I know how people weather alcohol if they are used to it. You don’t look like that.”

Ha. How funny. He didn’t belong in this battered bar, and he’s never belonged in the dusty streets of Nevis- no, he was too bright, too smart, too quick even for the never-stopping tradesmen he had worked with for a few years- but did he belong in the high class this girl had placed him in? Wasn’t Thomas right, years ago, when he mocked the incongruity between his ostentatious clothes and his scrappy self, his unrefined mannerism, the way he seemed to scream poverty even clad in silk and leather?

Where did he belong then?

“You know what? Bring me some other shots and I’ll tell you why I need to get hammered.”

She gave him a half-smile, turning her back at him. She was going to judge him, obviously, but he couldn’t find the strength to care. After all, she didn’t seem to recognize him- was he this invisible? Didn’t people know who their highest officers were? _But of course, he wasn’t important enough, he would never be remembered, he had to work harder, what was he still doing in this bar he had to work, he had to_ work- so his public dignity was intact. 

Well, for now at least.

He almost fell off the barstool as a thundering burst of laughter erupted on his left. Gripping the sticky counter- _and he was still here, why couldn’t he go to a more sanitary place, was he consciously torturing himself, why was he such a masochist? -_ Alex turned his head to look at the source. Turns out that this shitty bar- _and yeah, he knew why he was here and not uptown, of course he knew, because what if Thomas wants to celebrate getting free of the pathetic cheating immigrant, huh, what if he went out with Madison, what if the disloyal bastard finally took his chance with him? Doesn’t matter how many times Thomas told him_ no, silly, we’re just friends, James isn’t even bi, _Alex knew, he_ knew _that Madison had a thing for his boyfriend (_ ex- _boyfriend Alex, he’s you_ ex _now) nobody got that starry eyed when talking of a longtime friend who is actually living his best life in France as the Minister while you’re still in this wretched country struggling to have these stupid Americans sign their damned constitution and why was he still thinking of Madison_?- good enough for… college students?

Oh, to be that young and carefree again- except that he was Alexander Hamilton so college hadn’t been carefree at all for him, although he still had been in a better place than now. 

At least he had had John at that time, and Herc, and Robert-God, he hadn’t heard from him in an age, what was even going on in his life right now- and Ned- where was his brother even working now, was he still a doctor?- he wrote, he studied, he tore into Tory articles- oh, how funny it had been with that Winchester Farmer person, he wanted to do that all over again, he was _good_ at that, he had _fun-_ flirted and loved John...

Well, he did still have Herc and John, but how could he call them now? They would judge him, he’s sure they’d judge him, he’s judging himself right now, why shouldn’t they?

He felt a pang in his chest- _he was getting used to those these last days, and what did that say about his life?-_ because those kids reminded him of _his_ college get togethers, when he brought his friends from Uni and Herc brought whoever was witty and influential in New York that happened to pass under his hands for a hemming or a new dress, John pecking Alex on the lips behind the counter from time to time, and then at his side when it was so late that only their queer group and some shitfaced individuals still lingered.

But he didn’t have Thomas at the time. 

Not that he had him now either. 

“Here you go.”

As soon as she deposited the glasses on the counter- five, finally a decent number, this would get him drunk in no time- he promptly grabbed one and let it burn down his throat, and it burned so much, why couldn’t he at least _get used to it-_

“So?” 

Nosy damn bartenders with wrong afros and wrong eyes and wrong _sex_ she wasn’t trying to hit on him right, because he damn well would crawl in a ditch if that was the case he _never_ wanted to see a woman ever again.

“Really, you’ve probably heard this one before.”

“I’m sure of it.”

She still wanted to hear this though, that was quite apparent. Why was it that he always talked to the stubborn ones?

He was so stupid, he was here to _forget,_ and she wanted him to _think about it,_ think about-

“My boyfriend left me.” about Thomas knocking on his door to get his things, as though he didn’t have the key, as though Alex hadn’t pressed it in his palm months ago and closed his hand around it, and Thomas had been so surprised that his face had gone slack and Alex was so afraid he had gone too far, that they weren’t ready-

“Oh?” But then Thomas had smiled with flashing teeth, sweet lips, crinkles around his eyes and he was _so_ stunning…

“Yeah, it’s… rough.” 

“Why did he?” 

Why was this woman so damn persistent, didn’t she see he was grieving the life that he had been building without even noticing, between one fight and the next, between arguments and witty remarks and warm embraces in the night?

He could stop talking to her theoretically, it was a free country and he hadn’t ever particularly cared if he came off as rude, he’d always been sure that if people can’t handle him it’s more their fault than his.

He really could stop talking since it wasn’t doing any damn good, since he _didn’t_ want to think about Thomas’ hurt eyes and his hollow tone, but that was what he was _doing_ right now.

That was also the reason he needed _more_ alcohol probably, and he wasn’t sure he could stand up and crawl home to drain the whiskey bottles Thomas had brought from his last trip to Monticello- _and he hadn’t seen it, Thomas had been so excited when he accepted retiring there with him when Washington gave them both a week of leave at the start of September, he had wanted to show Alex the house that he had designed with his own two hands and that meant so much for him-_ so he might as well keep her good. 

He slammed down the last shot left on the table- and if his memory wasn’t failing him already they had been five and he hadn’t even noticed drinking most of them, awesome- and gestured to her to bring him some more. She complied almost immediately, eyes lingering on his face for a moment.

She was hitting on him then. Was she into sad people that looked for pity fucks after being dumped by their significant others? It may be, after all he didn’t know anything about this woman other than that her hair was wrong and her eyes and lips and hands too, but he may be biased, he may be a little ruined for the world after all-

She gave him two more shots- _two, why two, what am I gonna do with two-_ and he proceeded in finishing one. His head spun for a moment and _fuck it, next time he was going to do drugs on his couch and pass out there, this isn’t worth the effort, how could people do this regularly-_

“I-” he stopped for a moment, staring at the counter. If he started talking the floodgates would open, he knew it was always like that, even if he was talking to a stranger, he _did_ have an over sharing problem, was it the best time to let it all out, wouldn’t it be better to call Lafayette and get shouted at- 

But she didn’t know him and she was right there, what mattered her opinion of him? Maybe it would even deter her from trying to make a move on him, seeing just how much his messed-up head could mess up- and she was leaning too much on the bar, she was _too close, why was she so close?_

“I cheated on him. I slept with this woman, Mary” his tongue felt strange in his mouth, too heavy, too dry, just _wrong_ like everything else. Even his precious head was under some kind of spell- _the alcohol, it must be the alcohol catching up, and oh how hoped it would get worse quickly, to relieve him from these memories-_ but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to change that. “Maria, sorry. A few times over these weeks. He found me in our bed while I was fu- fucking her”

The bartender suddenly recoiled from him like she had been burned, a vaguely disgusted frown setting deep on her lips. 

Good. Now he could breathe. 

“If you don’t love him, then why are you so down? Did he kick you out of your house?”

“No!” Alex abruptly straightened up- he hadn’t even noticed, but he had begun slumping more and more since he last checked, and when did he last check?- and felt his head spin, but it didn’t matter, not when such a… a _blasphemy_ settled in his ears. “I love him, of course I do, why would you think that?”

If it was possible, her slight disgust morphed quickly into full-on revulsion and deep misunderstanding at the same time. 

“Because you cheated on him. Why did you have an affair if you love him?”

The seedy club disappeared in front of Alex’s eyes and was immediately replaced with a dusty, filthy street in an isle which few people in Philadelphia would even know the name of. He saw his home- _not his home, his previous_ house- a tall man standing in front of its stained walls. His father, in all his slimy glory, yellowing teeth sparkling in the murky moonlight amusedly as his youngest son asked him why he went to the tolerance house at night and wasn’t in bed with _maman_. It was burned behind Alexander’s eyes, the way he had just smirked more, the shadows of the night playing strangely on his face as he spoke in a French mangled by his deep Scottish accent, a cheap cigar between his fingers as he exhaled at the same time a cloud of stinking smoke and “ _Si papa trompe maman, c’est parce que maman vieillit, tiens.”_ and Alex had barely even known what _cheating on someone_ meant, let alone that his dad was unfaithful to his mom because she was getting _old_. 

But he had gotten older too, and when he understood it, he’d never quite managed to make it go away. 

Then it was alright, wasn’t it? It was normal, it’s what his dad had done- when you’re tired of your partner you just move on to the next, you can _stretch_ the boundaries of a relationship, after all he was never going to stop for anyone, what use was it to keep them around? 

_(But was it still true now? Hadn’t he been willing to spend at least a week of paid leave with just his man for company, no work, no deadlines, no hustle toward reaching another goal to write his legacy?_

_Wasn’t that stopping?)_

It hadn’t seemed a big deal at the start. It hadn’t, he just had a quickie with that woman who asked him money looking so desperate and lost as he railed her against the wall of his living room. He hadn’t _thought_ about it at the start. 

He hadn’t. 

He really was just like his father, in the end- it may be the Almighty God that made him ruin his relationship with Thomas then, God trying to protect Patsy and Polly, before they saw him as a parental figure and he messed them up like his father had done him. 

_(Could it be considered abandonment, in this case? But- no, they weren’t that attached to him already._

_Weren’t they?)_

“He wasn’t coming home until late at night. _Je le faisait aussi, toujours,_ but I didn’t understand how tiring it can get to have your _amour mettre son travail au dessus de toi._ ”

The waitress looked lost for a second, before she huffed and turned her back at him, retrieving the empty glass before attending to other patrons. 

Alex didn’t understand what had set her off like that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to particularly care. 

Maybe it was a problem with women altogether, as a species. They pulled you in, played with you, and left you to deal with the aftermath.

Hadn’t he felt so very attracted to representative Schuyler when he met her, so much he’d flirted with her all evening, trying once or twice to get her alone in one of the secluded corridors the venue offered, dragging his hands lightly over her waist, getting too close, looking at her through hooded eyes, until she had shattered it all? Hadn’t she played along and flirted right back, an unmistakable glint in her eyes until he had offered to walk her home and a dark-skinned man had put his arm around her waist _and oh Alexander, have you met my husband John?_

That Miss Maria had probably known what a wonderful life she was destroying by throwing herself at him. Was she working for someone? Maybe someone from the opposition that knew of his and Thomas’ relationship- he knew they should have kept it secret, he _knew-_ and guessed he would be so destroyed after a split that he would stop pushing his bills with such single-mindedness, so they could win. Maybe she worked for Adams, that man hated him enough to do such a thing-

A new wave of dizziness and nausea overtook his senses, and somehow Alex felt his head clear for a moment. 

What was he even thinking? Not only he apparently became misogynistic when he was drunk-which, not very nice to know- but senseless too? He _knew_ John Adams loved Thomas to bits- his only redeeming quality, in Alex’s humble opinion- he wouldn’t ever do such a thing to him, how could he have even considered an idea as stupid at that?

He focused on the counter in front of him and saw the last lone shot positioned just in front of him. He breathed deeply. 

He was getting too old for this shit. 

Alex gulped it down just like the others, yearning the fuzziness that had settled in his mind earlier, surprised at the way he felt the alcohol hit his _brain_ when it slid down his throat. 

He felt the world spin, but it didn’t matter, he’d had enough. He sluggishly brought his hand to his back pocket, and took it out after a bit too much fumbling. He left a fifty on the counter- no, that girl didn’t deserve a tip, but he wasn’t in such a state to try counting bills, so it would do. He got down the stool, and stumbled forward. 

Was it an earthquake? He hadn’t seen the ground shake so much since the hurricane-

A flash of pain spread from his nose to his whole face. Oh, he’d run into a person. Or had that person run into him?

“ _Désolé-“_ a group of young faces looked at him in varying states of embarrassment and uncomfortableness. 

He looked at the boy whose shoulder he had landed on. He looked extremely flushed, like he lowkey wanted to be in a whole other place, maybe even England would have been satisfactory.

Alex could relate. 

“ _Pourquoi t'es tout rouge?_ ” The blush on his neck just deepened, just like his lost expression, reminding Alex of a fish, for some reason. 

“Look buddy, you should go.”

He glanced at the tall person who spoke uncomprehendingly for a second. 

At some point the sounds rearranged themselves in his head and gained meaning. He answered that he was trying to do that, but for some reason they seemed more confused and more embarrassed by the minute, and they were staring at him, perplexed, mocking, cruel-

 _“Et qu'est-ce que vous avez tous à me regarder comme un singe, vous?_ ”

One of the boys tried to get the bartender’s attention, still that annoying girl, Alex didn’t even know anymore why he bothered indulging her-

She turned toward them and everything was exceptionally blurred, but the look of pity in her eyes he saw alright. Pity, for him, Alexander Hamilton, the man who made it out, the _gall_ of her-

“ _Ah oui vous êtes saints, vous_!”

The girl went behind a door for a few seconds, and Alex almost brought a hand to his throat, only noticing now that he had been _screeching_. How undignified, screeching at strangers in a bar, Thomas would be so disappointed in him-

Out of that door came an overly-buff man. He shook his head disapprovingly as soon as he saw Alex, and the next thing he knew that giant was grabbing him by the shoulders, the door of the establishment getting nearer and nearer. Alex felt the need to retch, and the group of college idiots began laughing behind him. He turned to look at them as he was being careened to the exit, and saw their pretty faces full of malice. 

Had he been sober, Alexander Hamilton would have promptly delivered a twenty minutes-long rant illustrating just how many ethical unspoken dictates they were breaking and how Senator Aaron Burr would have looked like a champion of moral integrity if compared to them. 

Unfortunately, Alex _wasn’t_ sober and, lost his eloquence, he could only rely on his voice’s strength, acquired by years of filibusters. And that he did, as he shouted at their faces. 

“ _Bande de macaques!”_

Next thing he knew his bum collided painfully with the sidewalk after he had been unceremoniously shown his way out. 

He tried to stand again, but found he didn’t have the balance nor the strength to stay upright- if he hadn’t fucked up _Thomas_ would be there to keep him on his feet, or he would pick him up and bring him to their car, or to their… his… _their_ home, laughing affectionately at his ridiculousness, taunting him endlessly when he was sober enough to understand it, but never failing to take care of him again when he was drunk, tired, lazy, _anything._

Thomas did spoil him, huh? So much and so quietly that he barely had noticed.

Alex slumped against the nearest wall, eyes now on the ground, now on the blurry sky- it would have been poetic, hadn’t the Philadelphia air been so thick and foggy that he barely could see the stars, and the awful _smell_ inside the club seemed to extend to the outside world too.

He wasn’t really in the position to care though. 

Alex let his head fall on the damp wall behind him, surrendering to his lack of a firm grasp over reality, letting his mind float morosely and almost incoherently without even trying to steer it towards a less upsetting topic, because apparently getting plastered didn’t _work_ and he had lost a whole night wallowing in grief and self-pity while he could have been crying on his couch for a few hours before beginning to stress-write and at least be _productive._

Alex smiled to himself. If Thomas could hear him now, what a scolding he’d receive. He used to get so angry at him, but Alex knew he would miss even being forbidden to work on Friday nights, when Thomas took his computer and unsubtly hid it on the highest shelf of their library. Then he screamed and frowned and riled him up until they inevitably hit a subject they disagreed on, and their quarrel seamlessly became a debate, all thoughts of proofreading his proposal discarded.

Alex hadn’t noticed it was intentional, at the start. That was, until he spotted Thomas smirking almost victoriously when Alex had been definitely proving better arguments, and laid back on their bed with a satisfied look on his face, looking up at him fondly before trying to tear his speech apart.

Alex had noticed. He could have called him out on it, and Thomas would have given him the most adorable blush, or a half-defeated laugh saying it was worth a try.

Be that as it may, for some indiscernible reason Alex still let Thomas distract him with debates and outings and sex and even those fucking _movies_ that they never managed to finish because they couldn’t ever get enough of each other-

until now. Because Thomas told him, didn’t he? He’d had _enough_. Alex had said enough, had done enough, and Thomas didn’t want any of it anymore.

He couldn’t blame him for that, not in the slightest. Even before the cheating, he wouldn’t have blamed Thomas for wanting more, for wanting something better for himself, for his _daughters,_ God, Alex hadn’t seen them in so long, they would ask questions, would they miss him?

He already did. He wasn’t a family man, never had been, swore to himself he _never would be,_ not after his father, not after his mother- but somehow Mary and Martha had gotten under his skin, carved a little place inside him just for them, he _cared_ about the Jefferson girls. He missed them. 

He missed _Thomas._

“ _Ah mon ange..._ ”

Alex frowned at the sudden quiet. He was sure, before whispering to the sky like a lovesick poet ( _and he had never written anything for Thomas, why hadn’t he? He could have, he knew he was good with his words, he could have done something worthy of hi- a sonnet, a song, something even simpler, just a few verses, a_ letter. _He should have cherished him while Thomas was still_ his, _he should have wooed his affections every day, maybe he would still_ love him-) there had been some kind of background sound, possibly something rhythmic, persistent. But now the night was still in a way he hadn’t felt since he strolled tiredly the dirty streets of Nevis-

He looked a little lower and noticed a woman standing in front of him with a deep frown on her face, almost frozen in confusion. 

It took Alex a minute too many to understand why she was looking at him like that. 

“ _Oups! Mademoiselle”_ he smiled slightly at her, to make up for his earlier disgusting thoughts about women… because they weren’t real. Even drunk he was aware he didn’t think such things- because he didn’t right?

Right. 

_“Je vais pas vous draguer, promis juré.”_

She looked nonplussed for a split second, before turning her head toward the end of the street, then back at him. 

“What the heck?” she looked at him pityingly and turned back “Eliza! One of Ange’s acquaintances is basically passed out on the sidewalk, what should we do?”

Alex looked at her questioningly, everything was so confusing-

Another woman came into his view, stunning like the first, although _gentler_ in appearance. Alex thought they looked vaguely familiar, but he wisely decided he wasn’t going to trust himself on anything until he felt a hangover pound in his head and he could have some sleep. After all, it must already be past midnight.

 _First day out of Thomas’ life._ What a cheery thought.

“Mr Hamilton, is that you?”

He looked up at the sound of his name, glancing at her kind face, and immediately got the impression that this woman wouldn’t have let him ruin himself like Maria did.

Alex nodded, wary. What did they want from him? And _was he recognizable after all? Did those students know who he was too? If word got out Washington would fire him even if it wasn’t long until his last term ended, no one would make him work in the government after being so disgraceful, oh God-_

“Is there someone we can bring you back home to? You don’t look very well, sir.”

Alex shook his head, too many times, too drunk. 

_“Non, je suis célibataire… depuis hier, putain!”_

“I don’t understand French, Mr Hamilton, I’m sorry.”

French? He had been talking in _French_ ? Was it… since he thought about his father? Had no one felt the need to point out to him that he was _talking in French?_

No surprise if they were all looking at him as though he had gone mad. 

He would probably be extremely embarrassed in the morning, too. Right there, he didn’t even have the strength to care. 

“I apologize” he switched back to English with some difficulty at the start “I hadn’t noticed. I don’t want to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled slightly, offering him her hand. He looked at it confusedly. 

“Where are my manners” she retreated her palm swiftly just as Alex figured he was supposed to shake her hand- or kiss it “I am Eliza Schuyler, and that is my sister Peggy” she pointed at the woman looking at them with extremely unimpressed dark eyes- if it was related to his appearance or his speech, probably a lot more garbled than he perceived, he didn’t know- while she lit a cigarette “You probably know our father, the senator, and our sister Angelica.”

Alex blinked a couple of times. 

“You’re _representative Schuyler’_ s sister? Oh, my.”

This. This he would be embarrassed of in the morning. He was falling to pieces, pathetic and drunk on a dirty sidewalk and he ran into an exceptionally beautiful girl who just happened to be the sister of the woman he had shamelessly flirted with two years ago. Just his luck, right?

“Yes” her eyes twinkled merrily. She looked like one of those Christian saints painted in chapels, beautiful and benevolent and unreachable “she admires your work greatly.”

Alex raised his eyebrows in disbelief, not really coherent enough to let the thought sink in.

“Mr Hamilton, is there someone we can bring you home to? You don’t look so well, and the streets are dangerous late at night.”

Alex almost scoffed. The irony of a woman, petite and charming and slight, asking a grown man if he cared to be escorted home to safety, wasn’t lost on him. He appreciated it nonetheless, and he should probably give this more thought in the morning and try to squeeze it in his gender studies side project, but now he had to answer her question, and he didn’t know how.

Yesterday he would have been able to answer. They hadn’t talked to each other since Maria’s hasty departure from their house, and Thomas was just… gone, for a few days, but he would come back, Alex was _sure_ he would come back. They were still _together._

If he had been out drinking and got shitfaced, he would have had no problem in asking to be brought to Thomas, even if Thomas would have probably been mad at him and _wouldn’t_ have taken care of him as he usually did.

Yes, yesterday he would have answered, but what about now?

He was truly alone again, wasn’t he? After so many months spent comfortably, with someone at his side, sometimes to _kids_ waiting for him at home-

“No.” answered Alex, deeply lost in memories of forcing himself to leave work- with a lot less reluctance than before, and how funny is that?- finding Polly reading sprawled on the floor of his living room and Patsy perched on a chair, chatting animatedly with her father and occasionally helping him as he moved around the kitchen, making dinner.

Alex remembered Thomas’ face when a few hours prior he shouted at him that they weren’t living together, full of scorn and hurt and disbelief. Well, Alex should have understood that things had changed when on Saturdays the girls came home, not in Thomas’ condo but at _Alex’s_ apartment. 

Alex tried to remember the last time- before Thomas walked in on him and Maria, of course- he had slept alone in a cold bed because Thomas had gone home. 

As much as he desperately tried to soothe himself, he couldn’t.

“Oh” part of him went back to paying attention to Eliza. There was an unhappy frown on her face, as though she could clearly see how inconsolable he felt. It was probably very obvious, though “Where is your home then? We can bring you there, it’s no problem really.”

Alex thought about it for a minute. He was musing, so deeply sunk into despair that he didn’t think of giving her his address- and probably too drunk to recall it. 

He had been thinking about it, hadn’t he? His home, the place he belonged to. 

Not in Philadelphia for sure, he detested the city with all of his might. Did he belong in New York then? 

Years ago he probably had, when there had been John and Hercules and university and his studies and his friends, and Washington getting into the city with the Army, and the speeches delivered in the Common- but he hadn’t been there since the government was moved five years ago, _a relationship with Thomas Jefferson ago,_ a whole lifetime ago. And his work was here, and John and Hercules were a phone call away. He didn’t have anything left for him in New York. 

So where? Not Nevis, for sure. Never Nevis. 

“Thomas” he whispered, barely aware he was talking, all his filters gone, all his dignity, leaving him a pathetic, cliché man on a sidewalk getting his shit together a bit too late. “My home is Thomas”

At least Eliza seemed amused at his ridiculousness. Her lips tightened as though she was actively trying not to snort, before turning to her sister.

“Text Angelica and ask her if she knows the Thomas Secretary Hamilton is involved with.” 

Peggy nodded as she put the finally lit cigarette between her lips and took out her phone. 

Eliza turned back to him and opened her mouth, as though she actually wanted to talk to his half-passed out mess of a self, but apparently Angelica had answered quickly, because Peggy laughed.

“It’s _Jefferson_.”

“ _Oh_ ” Eliza smiled mischievously at him, an ambiguous glint in her eyes. “I’m surprised I didn’t know.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows before realizing she probably had met Thomas. He was friends with Angelica Schuyler after all, who Alex hadn’t yet dared approach properly out of embarrassment- and hadn’t it been an interesting conversation when he discovered that particular friendship and they began to talk about their respective most humiliating interactions with her?- they must have been at least introduced at some point. 

Everything got hazier from then on. He vaguely noticed he had been led to a car, and pushed into the backseat, and he may have drifted off for a bit as the two sisters talked quietly among themselves. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he wasn’t sure he cared. 

After a while though, the car stopped, and they were in front of his apartment. Great, the very place he had been trying to avoid all night, the cause he was in this _predicament_ in the first place. 

Eliza’s gentle hand on his shoulder and Peggy’s more forceful grip on his arm guided him upstairs, keeping him from keeling on the steps and fly down and break something - but who knows, he may even welcome hospitalisation at this point, he would have an excuse to avoid his home, to stop working, to-

Once they reached his floor he began fumbling for the keys, searching in his pockets without much success. 

But apparently they weren’t needed, since Peggy shoved past him and knocked on his door. Alex turned to her, trying to formulate a sentence that both conveyed his disbelief and managed to not be rude by asking her whether she was stupid or-

But the door opened, and there in all his tired magnificence, shirt rumpled and hair wild like it was in the mornings, stood Thomas, leaning- _slumping-_ against the doorframe. 

Alex was shocked for a second, before his eyes widened and filled with tears, memories of their fight all but banished from his head, on the forefront of his mind just how much he had _missed_ him tonight-

He found himself stumbling forward, and he thanked every deity he knew for Thomas’ quick reflexes as he caught him. Alex let his head fall on Thomas’s toned chest, sighing at the familiar feeling, arms sliding tightly around his waist, feeling the hard muscle tense at his touch. 

“Peggy, Eliza, thank you so much for bringing him here, you really didn’t have to.”

Alex inhaled Thomas’ scent as the older man spoke familiarly to Schuyler’s sisters, the faint traces of his cologne and that unidentifiable something that was uniquely _Thomas_ flooding his nostrils, holding a certain grounding power over him as it kept him anchored to reality despite the alcohol in his system and the tiredness in his bones. 

“It was our pleasure Thomas, don’t worry about it.” he nuzzled his face on Thomas’ shoulder, eyes closed and his body alive like it hadn’t been in days. “Is Mr Hamilton a really cuddly drunk or you have been together for a long time?”

He felt Thomas tense again, even as he forced out a laugh, so strained and pained that Alex’s head snapped up to look at Thomas’ lovely face. 

“Both, really.”

Alex saw Eliza’s quietly amused face out of the corner of his eye and immediately decided to pay her no heed. He was in Thomas’ arms, _he was in Thomas’ arms, maybe they could fix this-_

“Well, next time you come over at the orphanage with the girls you must tell me all about you two.”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t even known about this woman’s existence before tonight, and now turns out that she knew the girls too? 

“I will” Thomas’ smile looked more like a gash cut into his skin than a genuine expression of happiness. Alex raised a hand to Thomas’s cheekbone, brows drawn tight in confusion. Thomas looked him in the eye for the first time that night, a controlled blankness Alex saw through immediately, spotting the signs of deep discomfort and-

“Thank you again ladies, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

Then the door slid shut quietly, and Thomas pulled back from him as though burned, so abruptly that Alex almost fell on his ass. 

“What’s the problem with you?!” Alex’s words were a bit clearer than expected. Nothing like your man looking at you the same as if you threatened his daughters’ life to sober up, right?

“What’s the problem with _me?_ Peggy Schuyler texts me in the middle of the night that my _boyfriend_ is barely coherent and about to pass out in an alley because he went out drinking, didn’t know when to stop, didn’t think of bringing _someone_ to check on him, and now _I_ am the one with a problem?!”

Alex wanted to be swallowed by the floor. Thomas was yelling. Thomas _didn’t_ yell, not even when he was shouted at. Thomas looked at his opponents hatefully, smugly, he kept his voice low and his self-control perfectly stable, made you feel guilty with a turn of phrase, with a disappointed tone of voice, enraged you with what could be perceived as aloofness, carelessness, a total lack of effort. He didn’t _yell._

Was it because they split? It must be. Of course Thomas wouldn’t want to get to the other side of the city at ass o’clock to make sure his _ex -_ not his partner, not anymore- didn’t die of alcohol poisoning.

“It’s not even that, you idiot!” Thomas brought a shaking hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, a trembling breath sliding past his lips. Alex simultaneously realized that his pathetically tired state made him speak aloud again, and that he wanted nothing more than to surge forward and console Thomas, caress his scalp in the way Alex had learned would relax him most, trace patterns along the stiff muscles on his face, trying to unwind them.

And yet he couldn’t, he had to remind himself he wasn’t _allowed_ to touch him anymore, and it better get through his head. No, there was no _fixing this-_

“Who knows what could have happened to you? What if you were mobbed, or assaulted, or you fucking passed out- nobody knew you were out, someone would have started wondering come _Monday,_ when around nine they wouldn’t hear you screaming down the corridor at work-“ Thomas cut himself off, breathing in deep, his voice suddenly exhausted and small and Alex almost wanted him to yell again. “Couldn’t you celebrate at home if you were going to be alone anyway?” 

“Celebrate?” Alex’s voice filled with disbelief, a strange sort of anger boiling his blood. How could Thomas even _think_ something like that, he had been fucking _grieving_ all night “You think I was out _celebrating?”_

Thomas looked at him for the briefest second, eyes immediately fixing just beside his face, before shifting again, seemingly unable to find a place he could look at. He settled for the floor, before sighing. 

“Alexander, _please,_ let’s just… let’s just drop it.”

Alex was about to vehemently protest when some creep in the outside world- and he had unsurprisingly forgotten there existed something outside this apartment, outside the two of them too far apart from each other- decided it was fine to blast their horn repeatedly, making Alex start and lose his precarious balance. 

He was sitting on the floor with hands and wrists and bum pulsing with a dull ache before he even knew it. He snapped up his head as he heard a tired scoff, looking at a rapidly approaching Thomas, an exasperated expression on his face. 

And then he did the darndest thing. 

Thomas picked him up with relative ease, just the way he’d done countless times before, an arm under Alex’s knees, the other supporting his back, and in his shock Alex just looked at him dumbfounded, loosely tying his arms behind Thomas’ neck to stay steady. He suddenly was so close again, the heat of his skin surrounding Alex, his scent _intoxicating_ , tight curls brushing against Alex’s face occasionally. 

His utter shock must have shown, because Thomas snorted as he made his way to Alex’s… their… _Alex’s_ bedroom. 

“I’m not going to leave you on the floor after getting here to ensure you were fine. Even though you would deserve it.”

Alex smiled slightly, not even rising to the bait ( _because it was true, it was_ true-), just enjoying this moment stolen from a life that once- a week ago- had been his. 

That’s why he stayed mute and almost motionless as Thomas put him on his ( _theirs, it was theirs-)_ bed, methodically stripping him of his filthy clothes before tucking him under the covers, hands gentle as they ran through Alex’s hair just once. 

Alexander felt the quiet waters of sleep reach his feet, trying to pull him in, but he resisted, forcing himself to stay awake- he just wanted this to last forever, he wanted this to _be_ his forever, how hadn’t he even realized it before?

Before he could walk away and abandon Alex alone in a bed that felt too big for one, that had the shape of his love’s graceful limbs imprinted on the left side of the mattress, he seized Thomas’ hand, holding it close to him, the other man forced to stay near him a little more. Alex looked up with tired eyes, hungrily drinking in the handsome features in front of him, trying not to forget _anything._ He wanted them inked behind his lids, he wanted to see them perpetually, from the gentle slope of his nose to the way his hair fanned around his head like a fucking _halo-_

Alex brought the hand to his lips, kissing gently each knuckle, feeling the muscles tense, wide dark pits staring down at him. 

“Isn’t there any way I could make it up to you, _mon ange_?”

Alex regretted saying it as soon as it came out of his traitorous mouth, but as he saw Thomas’ face crumble he knew the damage was done. He closed his eyes, unable to watch that amount of pain on _those_ particular features, knowing full well why that heartbreaking look settled in his lover’s weary eyes. 

“You think there is a way to make it up to me?” Thomas’ voice was hard and his full lips pursed tightly as a frown set in his furrowed brows. He leaned against the wall, all tense muscles and squared shoulders, menacing and still so damn _arousing_ “To show how _sorry_ you are?”

Alex rose to the challenge immediately as his feet brought him across the room in a split second, short legs be damned, and he gripped Thomas’ hips in his small hands, feeling the toned flesh give in to his fingers. He immediately slipped them under the light t-shirt that stretched over perfect muscles, finding scorching hot skin, and he felt Thomas shudder at the sudden cold. Alex took a step closer, one leg between Thomas’s, keeping them open, as he buried his face in the hollow where neck meets shoulder. “What about this?” He punctuated every word with a wet kiss on the flesh under his lips, before latching to a patch of skin and beginning to worry it with teeth and tongue, thigh pushed closely against Thomas’ crotch. 

His head spun with the quiet moan it drew out of the man, with the shuddering breaths _he_ was causing. 

“I think” a gasp as Alex bit down hard, with the sole intention of leaving there a mark, just under the collar so that every time one of his stiff shirts would chafe his skin Thomas would _remember_ how he felt under Alex’s hands, how Alex’s attack lit him up “You need to be a little more persuasive.”

Alex grinned, burying one of his hands in the mass of perfect curls, yanking down the taller’s head to press their lips together in a fierce fight of tongues and clacking teeth. He felt that usual thrill which coursed through him whenever he was with Thomas, kissing him like his life depended on it. It set him on fire, leaving every part of him burning and almost _hurting_ with the need to touch the man in his arms, and soothed him at the same time, his mind _slowing down_ , thoughts of plans and policies and ways to get ahead banished from his head for a blissful stretch of time, and he hoped Thomas would always have this effect on him, _always-_

Their kisses became gentler, lips dragging over one another’s, tongues sliding together, and Alex held Thomas closer, as close as possible, the hand in the soft, corkscrew curls sliding on the side of his face, the heel of it tickling with the trimmed stubble on Thomas’ stone- cutting jaw. He felt hands slide down to his waist, locking him in the other’s embrace, and Alex sighed in Thomas’ mouth, before attacking his lips with renewed vigor, and his blood sang when another moan escaped his partner. 

Suddenly Alex felt himself be pinned to the wall, their positions swiftly reversed, one of his hands holding the hard muscle of Thomas’ arm and he hadn’t ever had _a thing_ for strength, but _damn_ if he almost didn’t swoon when Thomas picked him up and held him, supporting his whole weight as though it was nothing.

Alex wrapped his legs around the other’s waist, one hand on the nape of his neck, bringing their faces closer, making Thomas arc his neck upwards for once, because the tall bastard always _bent down_ to kiss him and did so with such passion that Alex didn’t even mind feeling almost _tiny_ too much. 

There existed a thrill in dominance that Alex was absolutely addicted to. Dominating in bed was _a thing_ for him. Dominating _Thomas_ even more- and to no one’s surprise, because how couldn’t he feel euphoric just at the mere thought of that beautiful, muscular, sexy, _intelligent_ man that was also his, willingly and _enthusiastically_ submitting for him?

What was surprising though, was how much Alex enjoyed being spoiled and taken care of, giving up control when their positions were reversed and like now Thomas was doing most of the work, showing off his strength absentmindedly because he was solely focused on _Alex._

Let’s just say that Alex was old enough to be settling down, and if he did it with _this_ man nothing would ever get old, not the battles of wit, not the soft moments, not the sex, nothing but the two of them. 

Alex pushed Thomas lightly in the chest, and the other immediately took the hint, because when hadn't he? He started to step backwards, Alex still held in his arms, never breaking their kiss. As soon as Thomas sat down on the bed Alex gripped the hem of his t-shirt and flung it away, leaving it discarded on the floor somewhere. His fingers shook with anticipation as they began to roam the perfect, toned chest and abs just for his eyes and hands to feast on- and how did he manage to be so _fit,_ he was almost _forty-_

Thomas slowly began to open Alex’s shirt, his large hands dragging over every patch of skin he uncovered before he descended to the next button, but Alex couldn’t wait anymore, and this wasn’t about him, it was about _Thomas_.

Alex pushed Thomas down on the bed, making both of them scoot higher on it, finally straddling him. He leaned down to kiss him again, shirt hanging half open between them. He threw it on the floor without much ceremony, smiling slightly when he felt Thomas’ hands grab his ass and begin to knead it. 

He broke the kiss, and noticed with a certain satisfaction how a deep blush stained Thomas’ cheeks all the way up to his ears, his skin just light enough to show it and oh, if Alex didn’t absolutely _adore_ it. 

He began to trail a teasing path down his neck, rejoicing in the pressure of Thomas’ fingers clutching his back so hard it might bruise, in his broken breaths-

“This... is all you’ve got? Why, I thought you actually wanted to show… some dedication.”

Alex detached himself from the skin he was feasting on to stare the man under him in the eye, almost laughing when he found the pupils blown but gently mocking, unable to go without fighting him at least a little. 

“Oh Thomas” Alex smirked, crawling back until he was level with his partner’s belt, unbuckling it with deft fingers “You’re so going to regret this.”

Thomas kept himself up on his elbows, looking at Alex with a thrill of affection and defiance in his dark eyes as he relaxed even more and smirked at him. 

Alex wondered why he still felt breathless when Thomas put himself on display and gave him free reign over his body, even after having had him so many times he couldn’t even count them. 

“Prove it then.”

Alex began to mouth at his clothed erection, a devilish expression on his face. His fingers trailed over the sharpness of hip bones, on the taut muscle on Thomas’ lower abdomen, and he watched with glee as the skin got covered in goosebumps. 

Alex hooked a finger under the waistband, tugging down gently, sliding off pants and underwear in an agonizingly slow motion, leaving them on the floor once he got them off the ankles. 

He looked at Thomas, now completely naked on their bed, languid and spread on the sheets, dark skin for miles, and _he was already hard,_ dick filled to the brim and standing proud. The bastard spread his legs, invitingly, and Alex got to peek at his tight entrance. 

“Well?” said Thomas as he arranged his features in the most innocent expression he could muster. 

God, Alex was going to _ruin him._

He leaned down, pressing light kisses to Thomas’ calves, hands keeping them in place as he made his way up to the knees, caressing the vulnerable skin behind them, knowing how _sensitive_ Thomas was. 

When he reached the soft inside of his thighs Thomas was trembling, breath noticeably heavy, his nerve endings probably screaming at the persistent stimulation that was _not enough_ because Alex took care of keeping clear of the spots Thomas craved his touch on. 

“ _Alex-“_

“Shh-“

He put his hands on Thomas’ hips, trying to ground him, petting the skin there, lips kissing the very top of his thigh when Alex’s ears rang at the sound of the whimper escaping the other man. 

“ _Please”_

“Shh, I’ve got you darling. _”_

He hooked Thomas’ legs over his shoulders before leaning down and kissing the flushed tip of his cock, licking it base to head as he felt Thomas sigh.

He dove down, relaxing his throat as the hard length slid further in his mouth, satisfaction coursing through him when he saw Thomas gripping the bed sheets tightly, eyes screwing shut when Alex began bobbing up and down. 

Giving head had always been extremely enjoyable to Alex, although he had never been able to pinpoint exactly what thrilled him about it, if the weight of a cock on his tongue, or the power he held in an act that supposedly screamed submission- which when performed by him was anything but, it was taking, demanding control, almost by _force_. 

There was something better, though, and as he quickly sucked on Thomas' full balls and went further downward, he fully planned on enjoying it. 

He bent the legs on his shoulders even more, exposing Thomas’ ass fully, feeling his breath hitch when Alex spread his cheeks with barely tepid fingers, warm breath ghosting over his hole. 

Alex decided to draw it out a little more, one finger pressing dry at Thomas’ entrance as he kissed wetly the flashy globes always yielded to him without a second thought ( _and Thomas had told him he hadn’t ever been the one to yield before Alex- didn’t that make it so much sweeter?_ ). He was observing Thomas intently, and half heartedly missed not being able to see his face since he’d laid down completely on the mattress- but at the same time he rejoiced in the broken moans finally ringing unrestrained through the room. 

“Alexander, you fucker” Thomas managed to strangle out at some point, irritable and excited and _oh, Alex was so getting what he wanted_ “how is it you’re always talking big, but never _delivering-”_

His pride piqued, Alex immediately rose to the bait and cut him off by getting to work on _delivering_ the best rim job he was able to give. He loosened the waxed hole between his lips, kissing and licking and _breaching,_ feeling Thomas come undone under his tongue, periodically switched with eager fingers to avoid getting the least bit sloppy, because he was attending to Thomas and Alex would be damned if he made his lover feel even the slightest hint of anything less than focus and enthusiasm and _worship_ coming from him. 

At some point a large hand slithered on his head and gripped his hair tightly, trying to pull him away.

“I’m ready, come on Alex, I’m _ready.”_

Alex looked up at him, drying the spit dribbling on his chin with an arm, smiling fondly. He moved Thomas’ faintly quivering legs- _he was always so sensitive, just fucking_ perfect- and ran his fingers over the scorching hot skin of the man’s toned sides, crawling up his body until he was on top of him, so close their breaths mingled. 

Alex hovered his swollen lips over Thomas’ cheekbone, trailing down to peck him chastely, before drawing back just enough to lose himself in those endless pits of pitch. 

“Are you sure, don’t you wanna use lu-“

“ _No.”_

Alex dove down to kiss him, a tender press of lips that quickly turned into ravishing each other’s mouths, Thomas’ hands linked behind Alex’s head, trying to get him closer and closer and _closer_ as he spread his legs fully. 

Alex didn’t break the kiss as he gently breached him, sliding inside him with agonizing slowness, swallowing the moan torn out of Thomas’ throat, thriving at the feel of him clutching Alex’s back with one hand as he tried to find purchase, almost _clawing_ at him- and it would sting tomorrow, but Alex didn’t care. 

He began to move unhurriedly to let Thomas get used to him. And as he kissed him and held him and made his way inside him Alex felt so _alive_ , almost on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

Thomas hooked a leg over his lower back, trying to get him closer, making him know he was fine. 

Alex began to drive into him with force, watching in delight Thomas’ pretty lips part in a gasp, eyes scrunched up in pleasure, and Alex couldn’t help himself, he had to kiss him again, to claim his mouth and everything else-

“ _Oh comme je t’aime Thomas-”_

Alex felt himself on fire when Thomas returned the sentiment, immediately, without a doubt, an astounding certainty in his breathless voice. God, Alex couldn’t believe this man was his.

He kissed his neck, biting another mark into the damp column of his neck, wanting to see it in the morning, a proof that he’d been there and Thomas _let him-_

“Alex!” Thomas cried out as Alex hit the perfect spot inside him. He kept the newfound angle, hammering his prostate, his head spinning as Thomas clenched down on him repeatedly. 

They were both close, so close that in a minute it would be finished, and-

“No.” Thomas retracted his hand, hugging himself as he looked down to the floor, almost as if he felt an unearthly cold settle in his very bones. Alex could relate. “I don’t think there is. I don’t think you _can_.”

Alex desperately wanted to relive that memory, to stumble his way through life at Thomas’ side, to be able to make it up to Thomas because he only fucked up minorly ( _but how was this a major fuck up, he only cheated, he only_ cheated _what was the matter, he was still coming home to Thomas at the end of the day, wasn’t he- but no, no it’s wrong, if Thomas did it Alex would feel so worthless,_ God-), because he upset him during an argument and could apologize, because he came home late when he had _promised_ he would try to get back on time.

He desperately wanted to come home at nine in the evening again and find Thomas pouting on the sofa waiting for him, welcoming him home and _fighting_ him almost just for the sake of it- and then letting himself be _kissed_ and _held_ and _taken,_ accepting the apology that would come afterwards, once they were both spent and holding each other under the sheets.

But he couldn’t have that. Not anymore, not ever.

Thomas turned to leave, and Alex knew that as soon as he walked out of the door he got out of Alex’s life, and he had to fight it, they couldn’t just _end-_

“Thomas!” he desperately called, sitting straight on the bed, his nerves jittering, panic and adrenaline coursing through him. Thomas turned back, looked him in the eye, one hand touching the door handle. 

As he drowned in those dark irises for what could be the last time, Alex realized he had no hope of fixing it. Thomas didn’t _want_ him anymore.

_“Nous étions formidables, c’est pas?”_

Thomas laughed bitterly, shaking his head, letting his hair cover his face as he spoke to the floor rather than Alex- _he couldn’t even stand looking at him, why,_ why-

“No Alex. I get it now. Really, I do. We weren’t wonderful, we probably weren’t even ever an _us._ You were, you _are…_ fabulous, and so incredibly self-absorbed. You live in your own parallel dimension, don’t you? And you can’t even do otherwise, not when the rest of the world is so _lacking_ , so _slow_ on the uptake. And I only get in the way, right?” He looked Alex in the eyes, something fond and sour and sharp in his voice “How could I think you would stop running toward the sun for me? How could I think I was _holding_ you, when you’ve never been in my hands in the first place? I touched you for a second, and already you were moving on to the next important task, the next conquest...the next goal.” 

Alex would have shaken his head in no, _no Thomas it’s not like that, I’m yours, I’m here, and you deserve so much more-_ but he was frozen in place by the tired declaration, because had Thomas been thinking this the whole time they’d been together? What-

“ _Tu étais formidable_ ” Thomas opened the door, striding out, a last sentence sounding almost unreal as he departed “ _J’étais fort minable.”_

Alex’s eyes widened as big as saucers. Pathetic, his Thomas thought himself _pathetic_ , how was it even possible-

“Thomas no! Come back!”

But the front door had already slammed shut, drowning his pleading voice. 

Alex looked down at his hands feeling empty as he never had before, an inescapable _nothingness_ spreading from his chest. 

_God, what had he done?_

**Author's Note:**

> French translations:  
> Un peu fort bourré : “a little very tipsy” (it’s meant to underline how tipsy the speaker is as he doesn’t even realise it’s an oxymoron)  
> Si papa trompe maman, c’est parce que maman vieillit, tiens: if dad cheats on mom it’s because mom grew old, see  
> He wasn’t coming home until late night. Je le faisait aussi, toujours, but I didn’t understand how tiring it can get to have your amour mettre son travail au dessus de toi: He wasn’t coming home until late at night. I did it too, all the time, but I didn’t understand how tiring it can get to have your love put his work above you.  
> Desolé: I’m sorry  
> Pourquoi t’es tout rouge?: why are you blushing?  
> Et qu'est-ce que vous avez tous à me regarder comme un singe, vous?  
> And what is your problem, you’re looking me like a monkey (it’s a little paraphrased, but the gist of it is that)  
> Ah oui vous êtes saints, vous!: oh yes, y’all are saints!  
> Bande des macaques! : gang of macaques!  
> Ah mon ange: oh, my angel  
> Oups, mademoiselle. Je vais pas vous draguer, promise juré: ops, lady. I’m not hitting on you, I swear.  
> Non, je suis célibataire… depuis hier, putain!” No, I’m single… since yesterday, fuck!  
> Oh, comme je t’aime Thomas: oh I love you so much Thomas  
> Nous étions formidables, c’est pas ? : We were wonderful, weren’t we?  
> Tu étais formidable… j’étais fort minable : You were wonderful… I was extremely pathetic. 
> 
> A lot of this is straight from Stromae's song Formidable, for the rest I plead guilty if the French is mangled.
> 
> Anyway! English is not my first language and I really hope this is readable, if y'all told me what you think about this story you'd make my day!  
> If this gets a positive response I may indulge my brain and write the rest of the verse this story is set in, but who knows.
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone!


End file.
